‘What if I said we’d skip the presentation dinner entirely, and order some food to have right here?’ he startled her by suggesting. ‘They do serve light meals. They’re listed on the other side of the drinks menu.’
‘But don’t you have to go to the dinner?’
‘It’s not strictly essential. They’re making a video of the promotional presentation after the dinner for potential buyers who couldn’t make it tonight. I’ll buy a copy in the morning and view it when I get home tomorrow night, in case there’s anything remotely informative in it, which is doubtful.’
‘But what about Eric and Charlotte?’
‘What about them? You said you didn’t give a toss about Eric any more.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Well, then we’ve done what we set out to do,’ he said. ‘Made Eric the Mongrel see you’ve survived without him. Also made him see he gave up a truly fine and, might I say, very attractive lady for a total bitch like Charlotte. Frankly, it could prove a more successful and devious strategy not showing up to the dinner at all. Eric will stew over the thought that I’ve whisked you back up to our room for a long night of hot sex, and darling Charlotte will worry her material little heart out that my mysterious Mr Wong might be some mega-rich businessman from Singapore who’ll bid more for Sunshine Gardens than the ego-maniacal fool she’s representing. Your revenge is already complete, Rachel. Why risk spoiling it?’
‘But…’
‘You have a penchant for buts, Rachel. There are no buts in this case, not even business buts. I guarantee I won’t get into trouble over not going to that dinner. I made my own private enquiries around town today and I won’t be recommending that AWI buy this place, anyway. Reliable sources tell me the occupancy rate here is way down, except in peak tourist season, and even then not a patch on a couple of their nearby competitors. Another little birdie told me that, despite the quality of the building and the décor, the management here is less than the best and staff turnover is very high.’
‘What reliable sources? What little birdie?’
‘The people who live here in Coolangatta, and work here. Shop owners. Suppliers. Taxi drivers. They have no reason to lie, whereas the present owners of Sunshine Gardens have every reason to misrepresent the truth.’
‘I see.’
‘So what do you say? We miss the dinner and stay up here?’
‘Yes, please,’ Rachel said eagerly as relief overwhelmed her.
Justin smiled his own pleasure at the change of plan. ‘We’ll order a bottle of wine with our dinner,’ he suggested on picking up the menu. ‘And then we might have a dance or two. That dress has dancing written all over it.’
Rachel’s heart jolted. She hadn’t danced in years. The last time had been with Eric, the week before he’d broken off with her, and the day before she found out the awful news about Lettie. They’d been to a Christmas party and she’d got very tipsy on the punch. He’d whispered hot words of love and desire in her ears whilst he danced with her, holding her very close, making her want him to put his words into action. When she’d been beyond resisting him he’d whisked her into the bathroom and made love to her up against the door.
Or so she’d thought at the time. Now she knew he hadn’t been making love at all. He’d just been having sex. Because he’d never really loved her.
‘I…I haven’t danced in years,’ she said, her voice shaking a little at the memory. As much as she no longer loved Eric, the damage he’d perpetrated on her female psyche was still there.
‘You didn’t dance at your friend’s wedding?’ Justin asked on a note of surprise.
‘No.’
‘Why not? I’ll bet you were asked in that dress.’
‘Yes, I was.’
‘Why did you say no?’
‘I…I just didn’t want to.’ In truth, she’d felt far too emotionally fragile at the time to do something as potentially destructive as dance with a man. When she’d watched the bride and groom dance their first dance together she’d been consumed with a pain so sharp, and a misery so deep, she’d fled into a powder room—one of her favourite escapes—and cried for ages.
Justin frowned. ‘This has something to do with Eric the Mongrel, hasn’t it?’
Her smile was sad. ‘How did you guess?’
‘You told him in the lift you’d moved on, Rachel. And you told me just now he no longer mattered to you. I think it’s time you put your feet where your mouth is. You’re going to dance with me tonight and I don’t want to hear another word about it. I won’t take no for an answer.’
‘Yes, boss,’ she said, rather amused by his tough-guy attitude. It was so un-Justin. Same as with his earlier pretending to be a sleazebag boss.
‘That’s a very good phrase,’ he pronounced firmly. ‘Practise saying it.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Again.’
She laughed. ‘Yes, boss.’
He grinned. ‘By George, she’s got it!’
JUSTIN sat there, watching Rachel really enjoy herself, possibly for the first time in years. She’d relished the food, despite the meal being a simple one, and she’d certainly swigged back her fair share of the wine. Now she was looking totally relaxed, leaning back and peering up at the stars.
He’d just ordered their after-dinner coffee but it probably wouldn’t arrive for a while. Whilst the setting and ambience of the bar was great, the service was slow. The place was clearly understaffed, especially for a Saturday night. Management were probably cutting costs to make their profit margin look better, a common strategy when a business was for sale.
Time to ask Rachel to dance, Justin decided. The music coming from inside the bar was nice and slow, the rhythm easy to follow.
He rose to his feet, walked round her side of the table and held out his hand towards her. ‘Shall we take a turn around the terrace, Ms Witherspoon?’ he asked with feigned old-fashioned formality.
She smiled up at him. Such a lovely smile she had. Pity she didn’t use it more often. Still, maybe she would after tonight.
‘Why, thank you, Mr Darcy. Oops. Mr McCarthy, I mean.’ When she stood up she swayed back dangerously on her high heels. He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her hard against him.
‘Oh,’ she gasped, her eyes startled as they jerked up to meet his.
‘Methinks you’ve had too much to drink, Ms Witherspoon,’ he chided gently. ‘Just as well you find yourself in a gentleman’s company this evening, or you might be in a spot of bother.’
‘Yes. Just as well,’ she murmured even whilst her eyes remained locked to his and her woman’s body stayed pressed up against him.
Justin could not believe it when his own male body suddenly stirred to life. Neither could Rachel, by the look on her face.
Nevertheless, she didn’t move. Or say a word. Just stared up at him with those lovely eyes of hers, her lips still parted. Yet for all that, she didn’t look disgusted, or repelled by his arousal. Neither did she attempt to push him away, not even when his arms developed a devilish mind of their own and stole around her waist, one hand settling in the small of her back, the other sliding down to play over the soft swell of her buttocks. Instead of wrenching away from him in outrage,